


Fathers Day

by sElkieNight60



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Bat Brothers, Bat Family Feels, Bat bros, Batfamily, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Bruce Wayne/Emotional Constipation, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, DaddyBats, Dick Grayson Being a Little Shit, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Dick Grayson is a good bro, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is So Done, Jason Todd-centric, Monthly Batfamily Bingo - March 2020, Se.N, bat dad, batfam, dad!bats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sElkieNight60/pseuds/sElkieNight60
Summary: “He misses you,” Dick had said out of nowhere one night, perched on the roof with him and completely, rudely unscathed.Jason patted down the still smoking parts of his pants.“No, he doesn't,” he'd replied, annoyed with Dick for bringing up Bruce so casually and annoyed with himself for allowing his trousers to be ruined. These were good pants, they went well with all his jackets and he'd liked them. “He misses the dead kid. I'm not him.”
Relationships: Jason Todd & Batfamily, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 753





	Fathers Day

The weather was miserable and the summer sun had not yet decided whether or not it would deign to make a proper appearance today, only peeking out from behind stormy clouds every now and then to cast gloomy shine on the damp roads. It was hot and muggy in Gotham and Jason hated it.

All morning he had loathed the thought of making the trek out of the inner city and out to the manor, but Nightwing had done him a favour on patrol and Red Hood was nothing if not his word. Jason would hold up his end of the bargain, even if that favour now consisted of showing up at the manor for what was probably some misguided attempt at family bonding.

“ _He misses you,”_ Dick had said out of nowhere one night, perched on the roof with him and completely, _rudely_ unscathed.

Jason patted down the still smoking parts of his pants.

“ _No, he doesn't,”_ he'd replied, annoyed with Dick for bringing up Bruce so casually and annoyed with himself for allowing his trousers to be ruined. These were good pants, they went well with all his jackets and he'd liked them. _“He misses the dead kid. I'm not him.”_

Dick had rolled his eyes very deliberately, making sure Jason wouldn't miss the action as he stood up and rolled his shoulders to loosen out the muscles.

“ _There you go again,”_ he'd sighed, helping Jason to his feet as well. _“Always with the dramatics.”_

Considering who was in their… _band_ _―_ (not family. Not Jason's family, not anymore,)―of merry little vigilante's, he found that a bit rich.

“ _I'm not dramatic. Plus, bonus: I don't have my head up my ass,”_ he scoffed, straightening his jacket. _“I'm the least emotionally constipated POS in this family and that's because I've got Therapy―”_ Jason unholstered one gun and held it up for Dick to clearly see, _“―and Stress Management.”_ He held up the other.

Dick just snorted.

“ _Not dramatic,”_ he grunted flatly, almost deadpan, looking sorely tempted to roll his eyes for a second time. _“Right.”_

Re-holstering his guns, Dick addressed him anew, _“Look, you owe me for tonight anyway.”_

Jason felt himself tense.

“ _Sure. What do you want?”_ he asked cautiously, trying to appear casual. Owing someone in this line of work was a big no-no, _especially_ when that someone was _Nightwing._

Dick smirked back, a look Jason did not like at all.

“ _I'll text you.”_

“ _Fuck. I hate you.”_

Dick's smirk only broadened into a grin.

“ _Love you too!”_

Then the asshole was gone, leaving a seed of worry to grow in the pit of Jason's stomach.

One whole week had passed. Jason swore to give up caffeine every time his phone buzzed and sent him leaping three feet in the air, but he never did.

Dick was taunting him, that much he felt was certain. The oldest would send him stupid little sunny messages every day or pictures with captions like, _“Don't you think Damian's cute when he's sulking?”_ Jason very much did _not_ think Damian looked cute when sulking and thought that anyone else who tried to snap a picture of him during a tantrum would be dismembered.

It took the man a whole fucking week to get to the point.

“ _Calling in that favour you owe me,”_ read the text message at too god-damn early in the morning. _“Come to the manor next Friday. 11:00am. Don't bring anything and don't be late.”_

11:00 in the morning was like breakfast time for them. Too. Early.

“ _Fine,”_ he texted back shortly. _“But you're still an asshole and I still hate you.”_

Jason knew already what reply he would receive and was not at all disappointed when Dick answered, _“Love you too, Little Wing!”_

Try as he might to shove it down and repress it, something unfamiliar and warm constricted around his heart, but… but he didn't _hate_ the feeling. Maybe… _and he didn't want to admit it, but…_ maybe Dick was trying to reconnect with him.

Jason wanted to hate that, and most of him did. He hated the fact that Dick was clearly trying so hard and he hated that Dick's attempts were working, but… but he… he didn't hate it _entirely_. A little part of him jumped at the chance to have a relationship with someone in Gotham again. Someone that strangely trusted him after all he'd done and someone that… maybe cared about _him_. About the Jason of _now_ as opposed to the Jason of _then_. They'd not been particularly close when Jason had lived at the manor, mostly because Dick and Bruce were constantly fighting, but Dick was certainly attempting to make up the lost ground now.

So Jason found himself in front of Wayne manor, pressing the buzzer for the gate at 11:00am on a hot, muggy Friday whilst his legs dripped sweat through his pants and onto his idling bike beneath him.

At least the air out here wasn't as hot as the inner city, he thought as Dick's beaming face flickered to life on the little screen.

“You came!” he said, looking far too awake and joyous for the hour.

“I don't like owing people,” he grunted back. “I'm honouring your stupid favour.”

“Still,” Dick replied, looking sheepish at the admission, “I wasn't completely sure if you would come.”

Jason quirked an eyebrow and tried not to feel slighted as he said, “Well, I'm here, alright. Now are you going to let me in or not?”

“Oh, right,” Dick exclaimed, the gates opening with a somewhat grating, burring noise. “Come on in!”

Jason sped off up the driveway without reply.

Dick met him out on the porch with a grin just as Jason hopped off his bike with a, “Consider your favour repaid.”

The other man gave him a loose salute and a single nod. “Maybe I should do you favours more often.”

Jason felt physically ill at the notion of owing Dick Grayson on a frequent basis.

“Please don't,” he returned, wondering what kind of face he was pulling to make Dick laugh like that.

“Come on,” Dick chuckled as Jason marched up the porch steps with lead in his shoes, a broad arm wrapping around his shoulders the moment he was within arms reach. “You're my gift. No one is going to beat me today.”

_Gift?!_

All of a sudden, Jason regretted that third cup of coffee this morning.

“Gift?!” his mouth exclaimed as Dick ushered him inside, tongue finally catching up with his brain. “What gift?”

Dick was annoyingly tight-lipped as he herded Jason into the kitchen with a, “Shush, you'll find out in a minute.”

A box with a bow was shoved into his hands and over in the dinning room, Jason could now distinctly hear voices―his heart-rate spiked.

“Stay here a minute,” Dick said on his way out of the room. “And stay quiet.”

Jason managed only to hiss his name once before Dick was gone, making his presence loudly known in the dinning room.

Glancing down at the gift-wrapped box in his hands, Jason turned the tag on it over to read, 'Dear Bruce, happy Father's Day!'

A sharp inhalation made it in through his nose, but he had to deliberately focus on letting it all out again.

Dick was actually an asshole and Jason regretted ever meeting the man.

“Okay!” he heard then, his older brother's sonorous voice loud enough to cut through his thoughts. “Now that everyone has given their gifts, I would like to go get mine! Stay here everybody.”

Jason felt his stomach plummet and the feeling that suddenly came over him could only be described as stage fright.

Dick re-entered the kitchen with that same, stupid grin plastered all over his face from before.

“Okay, Little Wing,” he said cheerily, but subdued in volume, clapping Jason on the shoulder. “Your time to shine!”

“ _Dick,”_ he hissed through his clenched teeth, seething with smothered confusion and a little bit of fear. _“What are you doing―!?_ This is the stupidest fucking idea you've ever had and I really, seriously do hate you right now!”

Without remorse, Dick shoved him into the dinning room with a pleasantly merry, “Love you too, Jay.”

From the very second Jason stepped foot into the dinning room, every head swivelled his way and hushed silence came over the assembled group.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, like he always did, but this time he wore a ridiculous party hat and had a mug in his hand which read: _World's Best Dad_. Extraordinarily, Alfred sat next to him wearing a similar get up, but his mug read: _World's Best Grandfather_. Around the rest of the table, other members of the family were gathered, each and every one of them―minus Dick―slack jawed.

Jason's face flamed as the silence rang, feeling utterly foolish like a court jester or a zoo animal.

Dick gave him an encouraging smile, taking up his seat again on Bruce's other side, but all Jason did was stare daggers in return.

The silence broke only when Dick turned to Bruce and too genuinely said, “Happy Father's Day, Bruce.”

In return, Bruce said thanks, but never once did his eyes leave Jason. It took him a minute, and Jason couldn't be sure if the slight wobble in Bruce's legs was real or if he was just hallucinating it, but the man got up out his seat and crossed the room very deliberately.

“Jason,” he said, too fondly and with too much warmth in his tone. “I… you came.”

This was dumb. He hadn't even known it was Father's Day.

“Yep,” he replied, popping the 'p'. He shoved the gift-box at Bruce with a, “Not my idea.”

Bruce nodded, but didn't look at all put-off by the admission.

“I'm glad you're here.”

Jason tried to say, “ _That makes one of us,”_ but the words never made it past his throat. Possibly because they were too cruel to even say to Bruce, or possibly because… they were untrue.

“Whatever,” he said instead, stepping around Bruce in a bid to claim the last chair available, but pausing long enough to mutter, “Happy Father's Day, old man.”

For a second, given the expression writhing all over the other man's face, Jason genuinely thought Bruce would cry super unmanly tears, but with one blink the expression was gone. Nothing could quite hide the soft, gentle edge that now existed by the corners of his eyes though.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as Jason slid into his chair, then added, “Dick was right. This is the best Father's Day gift I could ever ask for.”

The words made Jason want to squirm, but the lingering, gentle touch after the pat to his shoulder made him want to even more so.

“I don't know,” Jason replied, loudly enough for the entire table to hear as he eyed the pile of gifts up the other end and tried to shake off some of the uncomfortable embarrassment he felt. “I'd say those cactus socks are definitely a contender.”

The whole room suddenly seemed to relax and Damian piped up, preening, “Those were from me.”

“From you?” Jason asked with raised eyebrows. “Very… apt.”

Damian's eyes narrowed.

“What are you implying, Todd?”

“Nothing!” Jason replied, maybe a little too innocently.

“Are you saying I am like a cactus?”

“You are rather prickly,” Tim interjected, hiding a grin behind his halfway raised fork.

Damian huffed haughtily. “I am _not!”_

“Cacti are very tenacious,” Jason tried then, trying to salvage the conversation. “They thrive in the desert and are very hardy.”

Damian settled slightly at that, the words allaying his anger to a degree.

“Well,” he said. “I suppose being compared to a cactus is not the worst.”

From where he was sitting, Jason was easily able to see the silent laughter shaking Bruce's frame.

Through the window, he could still see the miserable weather outside, but the summer sun had finally decided to grace them with her presence. It was still hot and muggy, but Jason suddenly found himself not hating it.

Slipping in to the banter felt as natural as breathing. With the others around, even talking with Bruce wasn't utterly awful. Jason even found himself struck by a pang of regret when it was time to go.

“It was good to see you today,” Bruce said, standing at the threshold of the front door as he saw Jason out. “Really.”

It was still stupid. Jason resisted the urge to scuff his shoes against the porch.

“Do you… do you think you will come again?” Bruce asked when Jason said nothing, sounding hesitant and unsure.

A single eyebrow went up, but he considered the question seriously nonetheless.

“Maybe,” he eventually replied. It wasn't a definite yes or no, but Bruce still looked ridiculously and unsettlingly hopeful.

“I'd like to… see you again soon,” Bruce pressed, an undercurrent of nervousness buzzing through his entire frame. “Maybe we could start with a patrol together?”

Jason's eyes rolled of their own volition, but he didn't rebuff the man.

“I'll text you details.”

Bruce nodded.

“Oh,” he said, already jogging down the steps. “And Happy Fathers Day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked this work! Also, if you want to make a new friend, come chat with me at [Tumblr](https://selkienight60.tumblr.com/).


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